The Waltz
by Angel Ren
Summary: They say war is a dance. A pirouette, an arabesque. Peace has settled upon the galaxy as the Drule Empire and Galaxy Alliance come to shaky, but gentle terms. An unlikely couple finds themselves meeting each other for the first time, not on the battlefield, but upon the dance floor... (Lotor x Allura) (One-shot)


Allura shifted nervously in the quiet hangar. Her eyes skimmed the darkened ships lining the docking bay. Each vessel was unique and hailed from a separate part of the galaxy. The diversity in the space station's hub was no subtle reminder of the unprecedented event occurring on the upper decks.

Leaders from across the galaxy, from all sides of the war had agreed to scale back the violence occurring through the stars, and Allura had played no small role in the process. The greatest hurdle had been the Drule Empire, but with her encouraging Space Marshal Graham to pursue for it, they had eventually conceded.

It didn't mean true peace by any measure – but Allura had never expected King Zarkon to stop completely. The pact between the factions, however, did make enough concessions to satisfy both parties to curtail hostility. A shaky, dubious truce had settled into place, and the gala in the upper floors was testament to it.

The princess adjusted the fabric of her gown and she nervously stepped away from the sleeping Blue Lion. She swallowed. She recognized many of the ships flanking her own from various planets that Arus had worked with – and against. There was one craft in particular that her eyes searched for, the nervousness clawing in her throat.

 _Perhaps he didn't come._ The thought brought her a little relief as she paced around the mechanical pieces. He was the sole reason she had hesitated in attending the gala herself. While some other recognizable ships belonging to Drule leaders littered the bay, she did not see Prince Lotor's.

She stilled, surprised by the pang that thrummed briefly in her chest at the absence of his vehicle. _Just concern_ , she told herself.

With an exhale, she gathered her courage with the folds of her ball gown and delicately made her way from the dock toward the lifts.

If she had her druthers, she'd be on Arus, reading a book or studying her next language. Yet, as Coran had pointed out, it would look politically insulting if she, as one of the harbingers of the amnesty, had deemed the event to be beneath her.

As much as she would have preferred Keith at her side for security, due to the nature of the event, it was only open to the diplomats and rulers of their respective planets.

She closed her eyes, reaching to the heavens for the fortitude to handle the assuredly taxing trial before her. Layers of midnight satin and sapphire tulle enveloped the princess, brushing against her legs a she shifted her weight. Allura opened her eyes as the elevator slowed, a gentle smile tracing her lips as she steeled her expression to be socially polite.

The door slid open and the princess stepped daintily onto the plush carpet, her eyes glancing around the empty hall. Music and boisterous laughter filtered to her from two sets of double doors propped wide open.

"I suppose it's a good sign that everyone is laughing," she murmured, her curiosity piqued at the idea that perhaps everyone w _as_ able to celebrate together.

She deftly graced down the hall, drawing closer to the nearest door before hesitantly peering around the frame.

Allura gasped.

The top floor of the station was utterly _divine_. The ceiling was nearly non-existent with only heavy glass plates between the galactic leaders and the stars overhead. Allura quickly understood why the location had been discreet and disclosed only to those in attendance; there were far too many high profile people present for the affair to be public knowledge.

The decorations were elegant and transcended cultural barriers and differences. Spheres of light hovered around the room, elegant banquet tables flanked the walls and large, glass-paned windows revealed the galaxyscape outside. Nebulous clouds swirled across the sky with stars glittering in the background as the rotating, self-gravitating base remained locked in a high orbit over a small moon.

More striking than the stars above were the guests below them. Human, Drule and everyone in between mingled. Couples were locked in an elegant waltz, other groups clustered together as they conversed over beverages and hors d'oeuvres.

Allura's eyes skimmed the room quickly. Kings to princesses and diplomats to dignitaries all intersected; some were old friends greeting each other again and still others were just meeting each other for the first time. She watched with fascination as mixed couples danced and conversed together. Amid the sea teeming with new and old faces, Allura searched for the one that frightened her more than any other.

 _Thank the stars. He's not-_

"Looking for me?"

Allura nearly leapt out of her skin as she wheeled around, eyes wide. It took all her will to keep from screaming in surprise at the low, familiar voice whispering in her ear.

She stared breathlessly up into Lotor's eyes, struggling to regain control of her thoughts as he watched her shamelessly, straightening upright from where he had leaned over her ear. Serpentine eyes draped over her frame like liquid, taking her in from the beaded bodice the color of midnight to the full folds of sapphire unfurling about her hips and the long, white gloves gracing from her fingertips to her forearms.

Her jaw firmed as she steadied her fluttering heart, her eyes skimming over him briefly. He stood straight, his arms folded behind himself, dressed in strikingly formal wear consisting of black and gold. The familiar Drule crest was pinned to his shoulder and his irritatingly garish skull belt wrapped about his waist, mirroring the arrogant, fanged smirk on his lips.

"I see you can't take your eyes off of me," he purred lazily at her. Allura stepped back before glaring at him, folding her arms across her chest as the familiar fire flared in her chest.

"I was just looking to see if you were armed," she snapped back, a blush coloring her cheeks.

"But weapons are forbidden at this event," he stalked toward her languidly, matching each step she took back with one of his own forward, pressing his advance as she retreated slowly into the ballroom behind her.

"Just… keep back from me," she warned, stammering slightly with trepidation. "I'm not staying long."

When his eyes only narrowed in response at the command, Allura panicked.

She spun on heel and bolted into the crowd in the room, weaving between guests and dodging tables. Her sprint quickly slowed to a rapid walk, struggling to retrain her grace as she smiled and nodded to various guests while still trying to put as much distance between herself and the Crown Prince as possible.

 _Of course he's here,_ she thought bitterly, her heart hammering in her chest. _It would look just as off-putting if the center of the Drule Empire weren't represented in some fashion._ She groaned aloud, biting down on her bottom lip. The entirety of the shaky détente hinged on all parties involved playing nice with each other.

 _Just make an appearance. Mingle a little, and then I can leave. I don't even have to speak with him,_ she comforted herself. She exhaled, collecting her wits and her pace slowed to a leisurely, casual meander. Her eyes flashed from person to person, seeking a familiar face to barricade herself behind.

Many of the rulers she had known in passing or met once, but her gaze did not locate any she had enough of an extended interaction with to strike up a casual conversation. Her eyes flashed back to where she had left Lotor and her panic hitched when she realized he was gone.

She turned in a circle, the gown flaring around her ankles before settling back into place, but there was no sign of the single person she wished most to avoid. Her hands fidgeted nervously, unsettled by his disappearance.

 _Perhaps he left._

While the thought brought her comfort, she knew the truth in such a reality was vanishingly small.

"Just need to find someone," she murmured under her breath, wandering through the throngs of people. "Surely there must be someone that I know here…"

"You wound me, my dear."

Allura couldn't stop the soft yelp that left her lips as she ducked around a column and darted past a table and into a hallway flanking the main room from the dance floor, a deep laugh echoing behind her. She paused to catch her breath before looking behind her.

She frowned when she saw no trace of the rakish man.

 _I could have sworn I heard him…_

Allura straightened regally, closed her eyes and took a meditative breath. She opened her eyes and refocused her will. Relief flooded her heart at the sight of an unerringly familiar face across the floor.

Gathering her skirt, she marched back through the throng of people, weaving about mingling parties as she homed in on what stood her best chance as a safety net.

"Space Marshal Graham," she called out animatedly. The head of the Galaxy Alliance turned at the sound of his title, his aged face lighting up at the sight of the spirited princess approaching him.

"Why, Allura my dear, it's been years," he smiled warmly at her. "How have you been?"

"Very well," she nodded, coming to a stop in front of him. He glanced to the two other leaders he was speaking with and made swift introductions. She gave a gracious curtsey in deference when they bowed to her.

"I was starting to think you wouldn't make it tonight," he cast her a speculative look.

"I'll admit, I did consider that. I have so much that I am in the middle of back home, I worried I couldn't afford the time."

"Ah, but so much of this monumental summit is because of you and all your hard work!"

Allura's eyes widened in surprise and her skin turned crimson. She shook her head in response.

"Oh, no, please don't give me credit for anything like that. Really it should go to everyone that's involved – it takes a lot of courage to extend a hand instead of a blade," she admonished gently. "It seemed to have been very successful."

The elderly war veteran studied the princess thoughtfully for a moment.

"Perhaps," he hedged. He let the subject drop, instead shifting to the other point of curiosity. "I can't say I've seen you in that color before."

Allura blinked, caught by surprise before glancing down to the oceanic hues swirling her frame.

"My mother liked blue. It's one of her gowns. My usual attire felt too casual for such an occasion, and I have never had anything formal commissioned for myself," she added.

"Whyever not?"

She stared up at the man, a dark shadow passing over her face.

"I've never had a reason. War is hardly an appropriate time to host a ball. I grew up surrounded by fire and weapons, Marshal," she explained gently. "The last event of any kind of formality I remember was…" She trailed off, a frown marring her features. "I'm not certain I remember. I believe my father took me to one when I was very little, I remember the music more than anything, but nothing else."

"I see. Well, all the more reason for you to enjoy yourself tonight, in that case. If there were ever a cause to celebrate, this would be it."

When Allura only averted her eyes shyly, the man touched her shoulder gently and leaned in close.

"Your father would be proud of you," he murmured. "Your mother, too," he added, leaning back and smiling with paternal warmth, evoking a grateful flush through the orphaned princess.

"Thank you," she replied sincerely.

"You know, it's alright for you to dance," he said. "I saw you dodging through the crowd earlier," he chuckled softly.

"I don't really dance, not formally like this," she murmured shyly.

"Of course you do. Do you think war is anything but an elaborate waltz? A trade of steps, a test of leads? You do it as masterfully as anyone else." He flashed her a grin and handed her a flute of champagne from a nearby table. "Relax a little," he encouraged. "Everyone is only here to celebrate."

He tapped the glass he had been holding against the one he placed in her hand before tilting his back and turning to the others he had been speaking with.

Her eyes dropped down to the bubbling liquid. Surely one sip wouldn't hurt. Even a full glass might help calm her nerves. After all, she _was_ present at an event that was entirely unique and the first of its kind. It heralded a golden age of prosperity for the galaxy as a whole.

She frowned, a flush of indignation rushing through her.

 _This is a brilliant, blinding moment for everyone involved. I will_ _ **not**_ _let Prince Lotor ruin this for me._ She took a long drink from the bubbly concoction – had it been less effervescent, she would have consumed it all at once. She smiled at a stunned Space Marshal. He chuckled lightly, recovering his surprise at the feisty princess.

"Do you know if Vargon's queen is here? Arus just recently adopted a trade route with them. We've spoken briefly over teleconference but I have yet to meet her in person and I would very much like to."

"I don't believe so, at least not that I have seen. Though admittedly, Yssilin has been known to make grand entrances. It's entirely possible she'll show up later," he replied, laughing quietly. Allura just smiled and finished her drink, setting the empty glass aside.

"It was lovely chatting with you, as always," she said quietly. He nodded in reverence to her as she stepped back, determined to make her forced social interaction about mingling with people she enjoyed, not dodging people she didn't.

Allura exhaled and turned around, ready to look for the next familiar face to catch up with.

Her heart froze in her throat when she found Prince Lotor standing a mere foot away from her, his arms crossed over his chest and a guarded expression on his face as he studied her intently.

A moment fluttered between them; Allura stood calm, watching him, waiting for his first move while he stood regal and calculating, assessing her tense expressions.

His lips broke into a grin as the musicians ended one song. In a lavish flourish, he extended his hand toward her in a manner that made her step back in alarm, afraid it would latch on to her.

It did not.

Allura slowly raised her eyes from his offered palm to his face, open concern on her features.

"A dance," he explained, answering her unspoken question.

"I…" She took another step back from him, terrified of the prospect of placing herself within his physical grasp.

"Just one," he insisted, stepping closer, matching her pace. Allura glanced to her immediate surroundings. The Marshal was not far away, but he was studiously making it a point not to look her direction – was that a hint of a smile on his face? Her brow furrowed as she looked back to Lotor hesitantly.

"I don't really dance," she hedged uncomfortably. The princess's shoulders were hunched forward, her hands drawn protectively into her chest as she eyed the volatile man distrustfully. Her hair, free from its usual confines, pooled over her shoulders and down her back, strands of pearls threaded through the locks.

"I'll lead," he encouraged. His eyes never left hers, and though his hand remained outstretched toward her, the arrogant heir did not close the distance as he was so prone to do. He _waited_.

She chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully. Ideologically, it was the most appropriate place to share a dance with her enemy: a post-treaty ball specifically celebrating the ceasefire.

 _Could this mean things could change?_

She eyed him critically before slowly extending her hand toward him and willingly placing her palm into his. At her touch, a moment flashed between them both. His eyes lit with something akin to surprise at her acceptance of his invitation, and her own body flushed with a heat she had never noticed before.

Delicately, he closed his fingers around her trembling, gloved digits before elegantly leading her toward the dance floor. He moved intentionally slowly – Allura could tell; she was more than acquainted with his speed and finesse. He paused and turned to face her. She gasped as he drew her closer to his body, a fierce blush lacing her cheeks when he placed her left hand on his shoulder, his own coming to rest on her waist.

She swallowed.

His steps were just as precise, calculated and controlled as she had seen them in combat. Allura found him easy to follow as he guided her through the waltz. A nudge from one hand or the other urged her to turn or step a specific direction.

"You haven't looked at me." His voice cut through her thoughts and Allura realized she had been staring at the point in space on his chest directly in front of her as she focused on the waltz steps. She exhaled nervously before slowly raising her eyes to meet his, becoming uncomfortably aware of precisely how close the man was to her.

He wasn't just in front of her and neither was he only holding her hand. She was standing in his embrace as he guided them in circles around a dance floor, his grip strong but gentle, his presence unwavering but yielding. He was _around_ her.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," she murmured, feeling the rush of air between her calves as he twirled her away without warning and her dress flared around her knees. Allura stared at him in surprise as they stood two arms' lengths apart, side by side in a full spin-out. A moment beat between them. He flashed a wickedly evil smirk her way before the tug of his muscles brought her pirouette back to him.

He could have caught her after two rotations and they would have been back were they started, hands held, facing each other.

He could have.

He probably should have.

He absolutely didn't.

A half-iteration longer, his hand snaked around her waist and Allura felt her back press to his chest, his other hand leaving her palm to grasp her shoulder, holding her against him. Lotor lowered his lips to her ear to attempt to calm her as her panic spiked once more.

"What are you-"

"We're just dancing," he murmured softly, his breath against her throat. All pretenses of the waltz were lost as he swayed gently with her, their bodies locked together in something much slower and more sensual. "Nothing more."

The heat vibrating off her skin seemed to indicate otherwise and as Allura's eyes flashed around the other dancers, she realized he had guided her to a corner of the ballroom floor. They were no longer in the center of the excitement, and hardly a guest cast an eye their way.

"Please," she whispered, squirming slightly, frightened by his intentions. His low voice chuckled beneath her earlobe as he bent over her, still swaying in time to the music, enjoying the sensation of holding the woman he desperately coveted, his fingers splayed wide around her waist.

"Just… a waltz," he murmured, inhaling deeply as he drew his lips up the length of her throat to bite _ever_ so gently at her earlobe.

" _Oh_."

It should have been a cry of alarm. Allura berated herself for buckling beneath the gentle touch rather than striking against it. A proper princess wouldn't allow such advances. And yet-

"It's peaceful now," he continued to whisper against her flesh. "What happens next?"

"I… I don't know," she uttered softly, frustrated that she found the sensation evocative in a pleasant manner. Without the threat and without the danger, the sturdy grasp felt almost comforting to the woman who had stood on her own for so long.

"Be mine."

She felt his fingers tighten in their grip on her at the proclamation, and an irritation flared in her, extinguishing any of the languid heat rolling through her blood. Bitterness ravaged her veins.

"Let me go," she demanded suddenly, her body stopping in the gentle sway he had encouraged between them. He stilled at the frosty shift in attitude, but his arms still laced her frame.

" _Now_ ," she demanded at his hesitance, her voice taking on a regal lilt.

A tense shudder rolled through his body behind her, and to Allura's complete shock, he released her.

She gasped at the freedom he willingly relinquished and she stepped away, turning to face him in surprise. A dark shadow clouded over his eyes as he watched her rapid breathing and flushed cheeks.

"That affected you," he said silkily, watching her closely.

"You are incorrigible and… beastly…. and…" she trailed off, her eyes widening as he just stared at her darkly.

"The wars have ended, Allura. _Now what_?" The promise in his voice made her knees weaken. Her brow furrowed and she shook her head once, backing away. Once more, he matched her strides. He did not close the distance between them, but neither did he allow her to widen it.

When her back touched a wall, alarm flared through her. She looked to him worriedly, expecting him to pin her.

He did not.

"I… I don't know," she admitted, finally answering his question by repeating it back to him. "…what now?"

"Are we going to ignore this?" He gestured to the space between them, and Allura colored brightly, realizing he meant the intangible, indescribable heat that seemed to flourish when they were near each other. "We are no longer enemies, you know."

"What do you want," she folded her arms over her chest protectively, eyeing the warlord with apprehension.

"What I've always wanted, Allura," he said gently, extending his arms out to either side before letting them fall to his side. "I want to unite our planets."

She flushed brightly and averted her eyes.

"We can't-"

"Why not? We are no longer enemies, thanks, in most part, I believe to _you._ " He studied her profile quietly as she stared off to the side, contemplating his words. Her arms remained tightly folded, her posture defensive, but she did not flee from the situation. He did not trap her – only afforded them the privacy they needed for such a discussion.

Silence ticked by as Allura grappled with her mind. His eyes narrowed curiously as she appeared to become agitated as time wore on.

"I… I don't know anything about you!"

Lotor blinked, earnestly floored by the response from the furious princess. Several seconds rolled by before he found his voice.

"Allura, is… is that the reason for your reticence?" His voice sounded rough.

Her lips thinned and her cheekbones grew tighter as her temper flared. Her blooming frustration exploded.

"You think it's acceptable to just… just waltz in and demand a marriage? Like… it's arranged? Do you just hand your princesses off to your highest bidder, compatibility be damned!? We take that as a much more sacred pact on my planet. It _matters_. That partner is just that – a _partner._ And you think you can just come in and declare something-"

"Allow me to court you."

Allura froze mid-rant, her temper deflating rapidly at his strange sentence, practically choking on her words. Wide, oceanic eyes fixed on him as she stared with open confusion, stunned by the phrase she never thought she would hear him ever speak.

"…what?" Her voice was a whisper, shock trembling through her very being, reverberating through her body.

"Allow me to court you properly, Allura," he reiterated, watching her closely. She frowned dubiously in his direction, collecting herself.

"What does that even mean," she accused, a shadow of doubt marring her features.

"Courtship – in _your_ sense of the word," he qualified after a second's thought. "…unless you'd like me to bring you severed heads? I'll gladly do it. As many as you like. Silver platter and all. With or without the eyes, it would be entirely your preference."

Allura felt the wind leave her lungs and the blood drain from her face at the prospect of decapitations being presented to her as gifts.

"Stars, Allura, I won't!" His voice sounded strained and alarmed at her expression. She began taking deep breaths of air to calm herself and shook her head once.

"Yes, I would… prefer not to have body parts offered to me," she murmured in a wheeze. Lotor bowed his head, unable to stop the fierce grin across his lips as he laughed dangerously.

"I rather thought not. But… proper courtship between two heirs to two realms?" He glanced back to her darkly, catching her by surprise.

She glanced away nervously, nibbling on her bottom lip. _Stars._ Was she actually considering it?

"No dead bodies?" Her frosty gaze glanced back to him, unable to fully trust the war-born prince.

"No dead bodies," he affirmed, watching her intently.

"You won't burn my planet or enslave my people?" Her head tilted to the side warily, internally sorting through the emotions rolling through her. The most surprising was that she _did_ want to see him again, especially if abduction, death, and conquering weren't on his mind.

"No," he promised. "Will you allow me to court you?"

Allura's eyes widened.

He was _asking_ permission. She couldn't think of another time in all their history the Crown Prince of Doom had ever _asked_ for anything. He had always simply _taken_. And yet, her dance partner stood before her, open and honest, asking for her permission to pursue her.

She blushed.

" _Yes._ "

Her answer shocked her as much as it did Lotor. The nervousness inside her ruptured and she began giggling uncontrollably.

"I cannot believe I just said that, but yes, as long as you do not mean any ill will toward me or my people," she amended, laughing openly at the utter strangeness that the amnesty pact had brought them. "I find that I would like to get to know the man behind the lazon sword," she murmured in a softer tone.

"How about we start with one more dance then?" She blushed as he offered his hand to her once more.

"Very well," she acquiesced, taking it. He pulled her toward him and her hand touched his shoulder as his took her waist. Allura rose up on her toes to whisper a promise in his ear, both warming the heat and soldering the peace between them. " _But_ _I get to lead this time._ "


End file.
